


Hard To Get

by da_petty



Series: The Amorous Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Doctor John Watson, Eavesdropping, Established Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fever, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, How'd this get so fluffy?, I'm not good with romance so it won't stay mushy long, It Ain't Art!, John Watson is a Saint, M/M, Only a nod to Anal Sex. No details., Probably doesn't qualify as crack, Ridiculous, Romantic Fluff, Sherlock is a Brat, Sick Sherlock, Sickfic, Silly, The magic of telecommunications, seriously don't take this seriously, temperature taking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 00:54:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/da_petty/pseuds/da_petty
Summary: Sherlock is a big baby when he's sick. Surprised? Me either.





	Hard To Get

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a drabble which then turned into a ficlit which then turned into a fic. I always have trouble ending my stories. It's just goofy fun.
> 
> As is tradition: Neither brit picked or even reviewed. I'm just one of those kinds of writers and I should be ashamed of myself! :D 
> 
> Kudos and comments make my world go round!

“Sherlock. Give me your mobile,” John said, hand held out. 

“No,” Sherlock replied petulantly, clutching his mobile to his chest.

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“Am not.”

“Give it here,” John demanded.

“Let me just finish this text to Gary,” Sherlock said, eyes on his phone, thumbs rapidly passing across the glass.

“Right. That’s it,” John said, ripping the mobile from Sherlock’s hand.

“Give it back,” Sherlock said.

“No. I don’t think so,” John said, shoving said mobile into his back pocket.

Sherlock made as if to sit up but John only pushed him back down on the bed. He followed this up by tucking the covers around Sherlock’s body finishing with kiss on his forehead.

“I’m bored!”

“You’re sick.”

“I’m not.”

“I took your temperature. You have a fever,” John said.

“I thought that was foreplay!” Sherlock complained.

“It was, but sometimes I enjoy mixing business with pleasure. That, and I couldn’t think of any other way to get you to stay still. You’re burning up,” John said sternly.

“Then why am I beneath all of these blankets?” Sherlock said, kicking blankets off of him.

“That’s a good question. Habit, I guess.”

“John!”

“Yes?” John replied indulgently.

“Thirsty…” Sherlock pouted. 

“Iced water coming right up. You’d better be in that bed when I get back,” John said, exiting the bedroom.

“I’ll go where I please!” Sherlock muttered belligerently.

“I heard that,” John called from the living room. 

“John!”

“I’m right here. No need to yell,” John said from the doorway.

“Can I please have my mobile? This case is a six, possibly a seven and I haven’t had anything interesting to do in weeks.”

“No. You need rest and liquids if you’re going to get better. Here,” John said, handing Sherlock two paracetamol and a glass of cold water.

“Don’t want it.”

“Don’t care,” John replied, watching as Sherlock downed the pills followed by a sip of water.

“I need to use the loo. Am I allowed to do that?” Sherlock asked sarcastically.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“It’s a perfectly reasonable question since you’re holding me prisoner.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Well? Mother may I use the loo?” Sherlock asked, batting his eyelashes.

“Just go, you arse,” John laughed.

Sherlock leaped from the bed and was immediately hit by a sudden wave of dizziness. He clutched at John.

“Not sick, eh?” John said, pulling Sherlock close to stroke his hair.

“I slipped! Let me go!”

“Just be careful,” John admonished.

“I’m always careful!”

John watched Sherlock as he walked to the loo, listing to the right as if he was onboard a ship.

“Mind the…”

“OW! Goddamn it!” Sherlock exclaimed, slamming the door behind him.

“…edge…” John finished lamely. He hoped that Sherlock got better quickly. Sherlock definitely couldn’t be trusted if John went out. He didn’t look forward to being trapped with a three year old for days.

***

John put his ear to the bathroom door. He could have sworn that he’d heard Sherlock talking to someone. He’d been in there for over 25 minutes. John rapped at the door with the back of his knuckles.

“You alright in there?” No answer.

“OI! Are you ok in there?” Still no answer. There wasn’t a lock on the bathroom door so John pushed it open. Or tried to. He’d barely opened it a crack before it was met with resistance. He pushed again.

“Go away, John!” Sherlock yelled.

“Are you sitting on the cold bathroom tile?” John demanded.

“Obviously,” Sherlock replied following that up with some whispered words that John couldn’t quite make out.

“What did you say?”

“I said GO AWAY!”

“You come out right now and get into bed. I think that antihistamine is making you dopey.”

“Didn’t take any. Just the paracetamol,” Sherlock replied distractedly.

“It was a combination drug. You haven’t noticed that you’re been becoming more and more tired?” John asked.

Silence, then;

“You drugged me!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“I’d hardly call giving you an antihistamine drugging you. You should have looked at the pills before swallowing them,” John said placidly.

“If I pass out in here it will be all your fault!”

“If you pass out from taking an antihistamine, you have more things to worry about than being drugged.”

“Ah HAH! You admit it!”

John rolled his eyes heavenward. ‘Lord, give me strength,’ he thought.

“Stand up. What are you doing on the floor anyhow?” John pushed at the door again.

“None of your business!” Sherlock exclaimed and pushed his back against the door, effectively slamming it in John’s face. John could swear that he heard voices again.

“Are you talking to yourself in there?” 

“Hold on a second.” John heard Sherlock whisper.

“NO! I’d like some privacy!”

John heard whispering again. Realization dawning, he rapped on the door firmly, demanding;

“Did you have your iPad hidden in there?! Get your arse out of there right now!”

“Admit defeat, John. I’ll be out when I’m damn good and ready,” Sherlock said, then began speaking in a normal tone of voice to someone.

John growled in frustration until he realized something; Sherlock was accessing his mobile through his iPad. John took out the mobile and said,

“Wrap it up, Sherlock.”

“I don’t know why he won’t go away. He’s like a mother hen. So, where was the knife found?” Sherlock said, clearly talking to the person on the other end of the line. John could barely hear the reply; the volume having been turned down to avoid his listening it.

“Right. GOODBYE GREG!” John shouted, pressing the power button until the mobile turned off.

“Lestrade. Lestrade!” Sherlock shouted.

John smirked and waited. Hearing Sherlock pull himself up using the doorknob, he stepped back and waited for the fireworks that were surely about to occur.

Sherlock opened the door just far enough for John to see one vibrant aquamarine eye peak out.

“That wasn’t very nice, John,” Sherlock said, sounding subdued.

“Yes. I’m an awful person. Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”

Sherlock opened the door all the way. He looked dead on his feet.

“You’re exhausted. Come along, there’s a good lad. Let John tuck you back into bed.”

“I was about the disconnect the call anyway, you realize,” Sherlock said sleepily.

“I know,” John said reassuringly, putting an arm around Sherlock and walking him back to bed.

“I really do appreciate all that you do for me, John,” Sherlock said sincerely.

“I know. Come on, lay down.” John helped Sherlock back into bed. “You’ll feel much better after a nap.”

Sinking back into the pillows, Sherlock looked at John and giving him puppy dog eyes, asked;

“Stay with me until I fall asleep?”

“Of course,” John said, gazing down at Sherlock fondly.

“Lay with me?” Sherlock asked.

John felt Sherlock’s forehead noting that his temperature was now slightly reduced.

“Alright.” John walked around the bed and got in on the other side. Sherlock immediately slid over and attached himself to John’s side like a limpet.

“Hold me?” Sherlock asked pleadingly.

John lifted his right arm and Sherlock immediately snuggled in. John wrapped his arm about Sherlock.

“Comfy?” John asked.

“Very,” Sherlock replied, eyes now closed.

“You know that I only want what’s best for you, don’t you?”

“Yes, John. I love you too,” Sherlock said, nuzzling into John’s chest.

John tightened his arm around Sherlock and kissed his forehead.

“What did you do with that iPad?” John asked.

“It’s in the loo.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok,” John replied, not quite believing Sherlock.

“John?” Sherlock whispered.

“Yes, love?”

“Tell me a story.”

“There once was a detective who was a right proper cock. Never listened to anyone. Never did what he was told. Always got himself into trouble requiring his best friend…” 

“Lover,” Sherlock interjected on a sigh.

“Always getting into trouble requiring his lover to save him. Why, once in Belgravia, he even managed to get himself drugged…”

“I don’t like this story. I'm tired. I’m going to go to sleep now. I love you, John.” Sherlock sighed, his body relaxing into sleep.

“I love you too, you huge arse.” John lay with Sherlock for a few more minutes before gently easing his arm from around him and sitting up.

“Time to find that iPad.” John searched the bathroom from top to bottom; no iPad. He went back to Sherlock’s bedside, and looked down at him.

“You’ve hidden it here somewhere and I’m going to find it, my lovable menace.” John commenced looking under the bed. Between the mattress and boxspring; there were only so many places that Sherlock could have hidden it before John had gotten him into bed.

Sherlock lay on his left side, curled into a ball. John didn’t think he’d ever get used to such a tall man being able to make himself so small. He smiled to himself. He enjoyed Sherlock’s agility though so he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

John patted around the blankets, peered under the pillows but still no iPad. He sighed in frustration.

“Where is it, you arse,” John said rhetorically, giving Sherlock a pat on his bum. His hand met something firm but definitely not Sherlock’s arse.

Pulling down Sherlock’s pajama bottoms, the iPad was tucked firmly against his backside. John laughed and reached out to take the now very warm device leaving Sherlock’s pale, pert arse exposed.

Putting the iPad down on the nightstand, John reached over and cupped one creamy cheek and sighed. 

"Get well soon, I have plans for you."

Sherlock reflexively pushed his bottom back against John’s hand. John felt his cock begin to sit up and take notice so he gave a squeeze to that lovely arse, patted it and pulled Sherlocks pajama bottoms back up. He gave a lusty sigh.

“God. The things you do to me, my mad genius,” John moaned.

“Johhhhn…” Sherlock said with a sigh.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Tell me a story…” 

John sat down on the side of the bed, placed a hand on one sharp hipbone and began;

“Once upon a time there was a man who met and fell in love with a gorgeous, brilliant man. People told the man not to trust the genius but the man couldn’t help himself; it was love at first sight. 

Before the man had met his genius, he’d been mindlessly going through each day without joy, feeling that his existence was pointless. 

He took out his gun every night, wondering if this was the day he’d kill himself. Then he met the genius and he felt glad to be alive for the first time in a long time. 

Although the man hadn’t believed in love at first sight, he changed his mind when he met the genius. Light filtered through his hair creating a halo effect around his head and in that moment, the man knew that he was lost.

The genius was constantly getting himself into trouble and the man felt that he finally had a purpose; he’d take care of this genius and protect him from all harm.

Eventually, the man realized that he’d fallen deeply in love with the genius but didn’t think that the genius felt the same way so he locked his feelings deep down inside and said nothing. 

He decided to stay with his genius and protect him from all harm. The man wasn’t happy but he was content and he accepted that as good enough. Still, every once in awhile, he would meet the genius’ eyes and feel a spark of electricity jolt between them. His feelings of love would rise rapidly to the surface and each time it took even longer to stamp them back down. One day, he couldn’t hide his feelings anymore so he stopped hiding and began openly admiring his genius, love obvious in his eyes. He decided that he’d to live with his unrequited love realizing that he could never leave the genius. 

This went on for some time, and he didn’t think that the genius either noticed or felt the same way until one day…”

“He realized that the genius had most definitely noticed the man and so too fell in love. Everyone could see that they loved each other, except for the two of them, that is. They were so intent on hiding their own feelings to realize that their love was fully requited,” Sherlock said, turning to look at John.

“I love you, Sherlock.”

“And I you.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you. You’re everything to me and I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?” John asked.

“Same,” Sherlock said simply and seriously. 

They sat looking deeply into each other’s eyes for several minutes until Sherlock finally broke the silence.

“John?”

“Yes, my love?”

“When you said that you’d do anything for me…” Sherlock began.

“No,” John said firmly.

“You don’t even know what I was about to ask,” Sherlock said, frustrated.

“No. You can’t have your mobile…”

“But…”

“No. You can’t have your iPad.”

“But…”

“No. You can’t have your laptop…”

“But…”

“Go back to sleep,” John said firmly.

“John?” Sherlock asked tentatively.

“Yes,” John replied, exasperated.

“That wasn’t what I was about to ask at all.”

“Really? And what, pray tell, were you going to ask?”

“Just that you come back to bed with me,” Sherlock said, all innocence. 

“That, I can do,” John said with a smile, standing up to head around to his side of the bed.

“And, John?” 

“Yes?” John said with trepidation.

“I’m feeling feverish again. Bring that thermometer with you, would you?”

John, his brain at war with his cock, just stared dumbly at Sherlock, saying nothing.

“Doctor, please take my temperature?” Sherlock asked coyly.

“Ahem. As your doctor, I advise against any strenuous activity until you feel better…” John began.

“And as my lover?” Sherlock ask, eyes dark and liquid.

“As your lover, I’ll be right back with the petroleum jelly and thermometer.”

“I’ll just get myself ready, shall I?” Sherlock said and with a wicked smile, turned onto his stomach, lifted up his arse and tore his pajama bottoms down until he could kick them to the floor. He then lay back down, sinuously moving his hips and rubbing cock against the bedding.

John gulped.

“Right. Don’t move. Stay just like that. I’ll be right back.” John walked quickly into the loo and Sherlock could hear him opening and closing the medicine chest. 

“Oh. And John?” Sherlock called out.

“Yes?” John’s head poked out from the bathroom door.

“You saved my life too. A million times over and I love you with all of my heart.”

John leaned his head against the doorframe and gave a sappy, lovestruck smile in response. 

His heart full of love and admiration for John, Sherlock returned the smile watching as John slowly crossed the room to his side.

Life was good. Life was very, very good.

***

“They’re doing it again!

— MH”

“Stop listening! It’s creepy!

— GL”

“One of my agents told me that Sherlock was sick and I wanted to know the details so I listened in. You know how adamant my brother and John are about my asking questions.

— MH”

“And how IS Sherlock?

— GL”

“If the sounds are anything to go by, I’d say that he was well on the road to recovery.

— MH”

“Good. Now stop being a creeper and come back to bed. Why we’re texting between the bedroom and the kitchen in the same house is beyond me. 

— GL”

“I was just checking in, Gregory.

— MH”

“Uh huh.

— GL”

“Slang, Gregory? How…common…

— MH”

“Can’t type. Tired of waiting. Stroking my cock now. I’d hurry if I were you.

— GL”

“Gregory! Wait! I’m on my way!” Mycroft yelled, shoving his mobile into a pocket, appearing in the bedroom doorway in the blink of an eye.

***

John’s mobile rang. He answered and said hello and waited for a response.

“Who is it and why did you answer it?! Busy!” Sherlock said, annoyed.

“It’s…I think it’s Mycroft. I think that he accidentally butt-dialed me. He yelled something about Greg waiting for him and now it’s just a bunch of moaning and groaning.”

“Really? Let me listen!” Sherlock reached out with a “gimme gimme” gesture for the mobile.

John reluctantly handed the mobile to Sherlock watching as his face light up.

“They’re doing it!” Sherlock exclaimed.

“Ugh. Don’t be such a creeper. Give me that!” John reached for the mobile.

“Five more minutes!”

“Put that mobile down right now or you can pull that thermometer out of your arse by yourself!”

“You’re no fun!” Sherlock pouted.

“You know that’s not true. I’m actually lots of fun.” John crawled across the bed and slid the thermometer in and out a couple of times. It was planted in Sherlock's arse as if marking John’s territory.

“John!” Sherlock gasped. He shoved the mobile under a pillow.

“Looks like I’m going to have to start timing the thermometer all over again,” John said in mock annoyance.

“Better to be thorough,” Sherlock replied innocently.

In the background, beneath the pillow Mycroft could be heard shouting, “Gregory! I’m coming! I’m coming!” but the two men playing doctor didn’t hear anything but themselves for quite a while. 

Content and happy indeed!


End file.
